Your two legs just won’t suffice, your longboard is retired for the chilly months, and your sister is using the car to get a bikini wax in Coralville. It’s time to choose the sensible and eco-friendly Hawkeye option: a bicycle! To the environmentally-conscious UIowa student’s chagrin, the Iowa Memorial Union hill is bitchier than your apartment’s fruit fly infestation. The Black Sheep has compiled a list of six things that inevitably go through your head as you bike up that pesky IMU hill:
6.) “If this motherfucking pedestrian doesn’t move out of my fucking way right now I will take the wheels off of my bike and just start eating my own tires don’t EVEN mess with me motherfucker.”:
Haha! We have definitely all had THIS exact thought before. Eating synthetic rubber is one way to show your fellow Hawkeyes you are NOT in the mood for their jabberwocky while peddling up a 60-degree incline.
5.) “Siri, what are the symptoms of a mild heart attack?”:
When Dr. Oz’s soothing voice is not readily available, it’s not dramatic to have a gut-check with the gal who always gets ya’: Siri. When she inevitably responds, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” try to avoid hurling your stupid phone into that nearby Cambus.
4.) “Oh my god, my legs are on fire.”:
This is honestly a harder workout than that one time you did sixteen rounds of squats at the Rec to one-up Hunter from Intro to Management. And no, Jane Fonda, you don’t WANT to “FEEL THE BURN”.
3.) “I have actually not felt this bad since the Pacer Test in 4th grade.”:
We all have the traumatic memory of the Pacer Test burned into our consciousnesses. Unfortunately, this IMU hill is so steep, it triggers constant stress flashback to the squeak of Puma shoes and the smell of freshly ruined flat-ironed hair.
2.) “Palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy/ there’s vomit on his sweater already, Mom’s spaghetti.”:
Who knew Eminem wrote this song about the hellacious trek up the IMU hill, you guys? Move out of the way, Ashton, there’s a new King of the Corn in town.
1.) “I’d rather eat an expired Burge scotcheroo with my dead-in-the-eyes rhetoric TA than ever do this again.”:
You’d rather have fucking Scott lecture you on what an indirect object pronoun is while you lick chocolate byproduct. Anything is better than feeling like your ass is being yanked toward heaven by a burning hot yo-yo string.
There’s really nothing like a brisk, 9 a.m. workout in the freezing Iowa wind with your 20-pound backpack weighing you down. We love you, Iowa. Your Satanic hills? Not so much.
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